“Where?” I look around at the rooms. There’s nothing on any surfaces. Not a jar or a vase or even a coaster. I glare at the white suits. “What did you do with all her stuff?”

“Isn’t it great?”

“No!”

They look shocked.

“What did you do with all her stuff? It was hers. You can’t just take it.” An image of Lettie’s face when I tried to throw away the first pile of newspapers flashes through my mind. I glance at her. Her face is as blank as the inside of her house.

“What have you done?”

“Relax, kiddo. I told them to take it.”

“What?”

“I couldn’t watch. I just wanted to go out and have it all taken care of. I pointed out everything that had to stay. They called me about stuff that they weren’t sure of. And I left. I’ve still got the books, and some other things in boxes.” She walks over to the bed and lifts the hem of the quilt. Clear plastic containers are lined up underneath, each filled with things. One seems to be full of balls of wool. Another’s a jumble of stacked papers. I spot some kids’ toys, photo albums.

“Is this it?”

“No. The spare room has lots more boxes like this too.”

“But why are they in there? Why not have them out? It’s the same as taking them away. They may as well have—”

“Rae. They had to go in there.”

“Why?” I glare at the white suits.

“It’s okay, Rae.”

“No! It’s not. They’ve come in here and taken over your life, this is your house, your things. They were supposed to help, not . . . not erase it all.”

“Rae.”

“Lettie!” Her calmness is killing me. I want to stamp my foot. How can she be okay with this? I blink back tears.

“Rae, they needed to go in boxes.” Lettie touches my arm. The white suits look awkward.

“No. It’s not fair they’ve just come in here and—”

“Rae, they smelled. They even steam-cleaned what they could. Aired them out. But they’re—”

“It never bothered you before!”

“Rae.”

“Stop saying that! Stop it. Stop trying to pretend this is okay!” I wipe wet off my cheek. “That you’re okay with this.”

“I am okay with this.”

“No. No, you’re not!”

“It’s not forever.” One of the suits steps further into the room. “We’ve put odor-eating spray, bicarb and mothballs and things in with them—maybe in a while they might be okay again.”

“Come on, kiddo.” Lettie peers into my face and gives me a smile. I shrug her off. She hands me a tissue. I look at her feet. She’s still wearing your socks. She sighs. “Okay. You wait here. I’ll see everyone out.”

I ignore their looks as they leave.